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She again addressed herself to the Squire. ‘Lord Penford inherited Summerfield House.’

      Dell bowed. ‘Squire.’

      The man bowed in return. ‘I intended to call upon you, sir. Forgive the omission. Busy, you know. Time gets away from a person.’

      ‘Yes, it does.’ Dell pointedly looked at the other man.

      ‘Oh.’ The Squire stepped over to the stranger. ‘Allow me to present Mr Walsh. He is the coroner.’

      ‘The coroner?’ Lorene’s brows rose, but she collected herself. ‘Oh, yes. Lord Penford said there would be a coroner.’

      ‘Must call in the coroner, my lady,’ Squire Hedges explained. ‘Not a natural death and all that.’

      The coroner bowed. ‘My lady. Lord Penford.’

      ‘Sir,’ Lorene responded.

      The Squire smiled at her, sobered again, cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. ‘Well! I suppose we should proceed, should we not?’ He walked back to the chair behind the desk.

      ‘Lady Tinmore.’ Mr Walsh spoke up in a deep voice with little modulation. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to leave the room while we speak to Lord Penford?’

      Squire Hedges smiled again. ‘We will call you forthwith.’

      A worry line formed between her eyes before she curtsied and left the room.

      The Squire gestured with his finger. ‘Please sit, sir.’

      Dell took a step closer to the desk. ‘I would prefer to stand. I have no objection to you sitting, though.’ His years in the army taught him it was better to stand when facing a man who might have power over him.

      The Squire lifted his shoulders and sat, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. Mr Walsh remained standing.

      Dell waited for one of them to speak.

      The Squire cleared his throat again. ‘Uh...suppose you tell us what happened?’

      Dell glanced from one man to the other. ‘First tell me what you have heard already.’

      Had Dixon already spoken to them? he meant.

      Squire Hedges picked up the pen and rolled it in his fingers.

      ‘We interviewed Dixon, the butler,’ Mr Walsh answered, which told Dell very little.

      Dell straightened and gave each man a steely glance. ‘You spoke to the butler before me?’ To speak to a servant before a member of the aristocracy was a breach of proper conduct.

      Squire Hedges tapped the feather pen on the desk. ‘Well, he greeted us in the hall, you see. Expedient to talk to him first.’

      By Dixon’s design, Dell was certain. Dell stared at the Squire, until he squirmed in his seat.

      Still holding his gaze steady, Dell spoke. ‘What did the butler tell you?’

      Hedges looked even more uncomfortable.

      ‘He believes you pushed Lord Tinmore to his death,’ Walsh said.

      Dell turned to Walsh and spoke in a firm, no-nonsense tone. ‘You have placed me at a disadvantage by speaking to Dixon first, but I assure you I did not push Lord Tinmore to his death.’

      Walsh shrugged. ‘Then tell what did happen.’

      Dell answered, ‘Lord Tinmore attempted to strike me with his cane. I seized it to fend off the attack. He abruptly let go, put his hands to his head and staggered backwards. He lost his footing on the steps. I attempted to catch him, but he fell down the steps to the paving stones below.’

      ‘You did not push him?’ Walsh asked.

      ‘No. I merely seized his cane.’

      Walsh’s brows rose. ‘And why did he try to strike you with a cane?’

      Of course the man would ask this question. ‘He quarrelled with me. I was attempting to leave when he came after me, following me out of the house. That is when he tried to strike me.’

      ‘What was the quarrel about?’

      Dell anticipated this question, much as he detested having to answer it. This coroner, though, would notice any hesitation in responding.

      Dell met the man’s gaze. ‘Lord Tinmore believed Lady Tinmore and I to be engaging in an affair. It was not true. I attempted to convince him of that fact. When he would not listen to reason, I tried to leave. That is why he was outside with me without a topcoat, trying to strike me with his cane.’

      ‘Without a topcoat.’ Squire Hedges dipped the pen in some ink and made a note. He looked up again. ‘It was not true? The affair, I mean?’

      Dell bristled. He’d already said it was not true. ‘Not true. I merely escorted Lady Tinmore home from Summerfield House. She and the Earl were invited for Christmas Day. He declined at the last minute, but Lady Tinmore came to spend the day with her sisters, who, with their husbands, were my guests. They are at Tinmore Hall now,’ he added. ‘Lord and Lady Rossdale. Mr and Mrs Glenville.’

      ‘I will speak to them,’ Walsh declared.

      Would he believe them, though, when they told him there was no affair?

      Walsh looked askance. ‘Why did Tinmore decline the invitation?’

      ‘I do not know why.’ How could Dell speak for Tinmore?

      ‘Why did he believe you and Lady Tinmore were...’ he paused and his voice dipped even deeper ‘...having an affair?’

      ‘I do not know. There was no reason for him to believe it.’ Lorene would never be so dishonourable and Dell—Dell did not form attachments. Not any more. ‘Lady Tinmore and I met on social occasions. And I sometimes did my duty by her and her sister as their father’s heir, but nothing more.’

      Walsh’s brows rose. ‘Nothing more? Tinmore was an old man and you are not—’

      ‘To suggest that is to insult Lady Tinmore.’ Dell snapped. ‘She is an honourable lady.’

      ‘But you invited her to this house party. Why have a house party at what must be a minor property of the Earl of Penford, instead of at Penford?’ Walsh asked.

      ‘Do you not know my history, sir? Surely you heard that my mother, father, sister and brother—my whole family—died in a fire not two years ago. I am not yet comfortable in the country house I once shared with them. The Marquess of Rossdale, though, is a friend and he is married to Lady Tinmore’s sister. To please my friend’s wife, I offered to open Summerfield House to her and her sisters for Christmas.’

      Of course, Dell did not mention that when he’d invited Lorene and Genna to Summerfield House a year ago, both he and Ross had met them for the first time. He did not speak of pocketing the miniature Genna had painted of Lorene, the one Tinmore tossed aside at Christmas a year ago. Nor did he mention he had sent sheet music to Lorene as a gift last spring, even though he sent it anonymously.

      He certainly would not be able to explain his motivation to do those things, because he did not understand why himself.

      ‘You don’t know why Tinmore thought there was an affair?’ the Squire asked.

      ‘I do not know why he thought what he did. I do not know why he would not listen to reason when I told him his fears were unfounded,’ Dell continued in a firm voice. ‘I grabbed his cane to keep him from striking me, but that is all. When he let go of the cane, his feet were firmly on the stone outside the door. Something else made him stagger backwards. Something made him press his hands on to his head.’

      ‘Yes. Well.’ Squire Hedges tapped his fingers on the desk.

      Dell turned to the coroner. ‘You will call in Lord Tinmore’s physician, will you not? Tinmore looked as if he was seized with some

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